Without Looking Back
by Astroskylark
Summary: Maqui/Starfleet roles are reversed. Tom and Chakotay are tortured at Auckland together.


_**WITHOUT LOOKING BACK**_

Disclaimer: Star Trek and anything associated with the Star Trek cannon belong to Paramount/Viacom. They do not belong to me, nor am I making any profit from this work. Copyright infringements not intended, many thanks to Gene Roddenberry for the idea.

Genre: A/U

Summary: Maqui/Starfleet roles are reversed. Tom and Chakotay are tortured at Auckland together.

Warnings: Extreme Torture, Implied Character Death

Rating: R

CHAPTER 1

Chakotay felt the blinding pain of the heat syth move up his leg ever so slowly. The pain was blinding. While the heat syth was still connected to his body, it could monitor his neural functions. The pain pulsated, and just when it became unbearable, it expanded and grew in intensity. Every noise he made was punished by an increase in pain.

Struggling to suppress the pain using various torture resistance methods he had learned from a Maqui friend, he opened his eyes to face his tormentor. Tom Paris- another prisoner.

It was common practice in this hole to make prisoners torture others. The guards bonded two prisoners, and made them torture each other frequently. Sometimes that alone was enough to make a person break.

"Tom" he whispered. The pain expanded again, and his face was lost in a grimace.

"Shhh" Tom responded, allowing his words to drag out. Chakotay could see that the younger man's eyes were swimming with tears, and that he was struggling to keep going.

Although no guard was in sight, they both knew that one would come in any moment if either of them attempted to discontinue the torture.

A voice was heard over the intercom. _This is not working. Use another tool- in addition to the heat syth. _

Tom grimaced. His shoulders started to heave and his breath became ragged in an effort not to cry. He selected the one Chakotay knew he would. Tears were streaming freely down Tom's face when he returned with a memory inducer. He tried to smile when he applied it to Chakotay's forehead, but could not bring himself to meet Chakotay's eyes.

The heat syth was standard for torture. It was applied in any torture session unless proven to have no effect. Unfortunately for the prisoners of Auckland, that was the case for only about 0.01% of the prisoner population.

Chakotay vaguely remembered the time right before his 'bonding' with Tom. They both knew the consequences, but were willing to accept them. They both had had no idea of how bad it would be.

Chakotay had told Tom that his favorite interrogation tool was the memory inducer. He had said that with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice unnecessarily loud so that every guard could hear. And since words were just words here, and sarcasm was missed even by those not blind and deaf, no one seemed to notice. That would mean he could get out of the memory inducer. People would take his word. No point in wasting resources on a torturing a prisoner with his favorite device.

Of course, that was the way it was supposed to go. Chakotay did not expect to have Tom listening to him. Until now.

Back to reality a second before the memory inducer touched his forehead, Chakotay realized that he loved Tom. An instant later he decided that he loved Tom even more than he hated him for doing this.

"Of course not, honey." Hs mother's voice. _No_. _This cannot be happening. _He still felt the pain of the heat syth. _There is a knife in my hand. Shit. _He felt his hand draw back, saw the horror on his mother's face, and started silently screaming inside. His left hand moved to stop his right hand, moved forward, and grabbed his right hand, causing it to move faster. He desperately tried to stop himself, but it was too late when he felt the cool metal penetrate into their hearts. He cried out, and felt a triple slam of pain hit him, causing his to roll onto the floor and writhe as if some invisible restraints were holding him. The pain of the heat syth doubled, and his heart pounded and gushed as if he had stabbed himself. And then an overwhelming wave of guilt. _Gods, what have I done?_

Outside. His best friend. His mother. His father. His lover. His whole family. And he was on the wrong side. Then he saw it. He was there too, innocent and young, full of energy and power. On his family's' side. Chakotay was condemned to kill himself. He shot them one by one, lingering for the shortest of instants, his body never grieving or hesitating. On himself though, he stayed long, the brown eyes penetrating him, begging and pleading. _Just like Tom. _He shot, feeling the shot burn thought his body, falling and watching himself fall at the same time. Knowing that he had just killed his family, and himself.

He was allowed a break now, torn from a cruel murderous fantasy into a crueler reality.

He knew that he was so close to breaking, so close to begging and pleading to Tom to make it stop. He knew that he couldn't hold out much longer. He would try, for Tom. It would hurt Tom so much if he started to beg. Tom would break. Even now, he was weeping uncontrollably. Chakotay wanted so badly to reach out to him and make it go away for both of them, wanted so badly for it to all go away.

If he were any other man, Tom would not have had this reaction. Tom was strong, but this ran deep into his troubled childhood, before he had developed layers and layers of defenses after losing his mother and being thrown out of Starfleet and the Maquis, after being disowned by his father, and after being thrown in Auckland.

Tom was crying because he had hurt so many people and did not want to hurt someone again. After hiding what he really was for decades, Tom Paris could not hold back his emotions any longer. This had broken him. Auckland had broken him, and Chakotay knew that he had failed him.

"Tom." Chakotay rasped after screaming in pain. He saw Tom turn, his beautiful blue eyes shiny and alive despite what he had been through, against the background of red irises, and a ghastly pale face.

Chakotay fought a wave of pain as he saw Tom's condition and struggled to keep himself under control. He forced a smile, and stopped as soon as he realized even that was too painful.

"Oh, Chakotay, I am so so sorry about this. It wasn't my fault. I try." His voice faded as he was consumed by another wave of sobs.

Chakotay fought the urge to start crying himself. "Tom. I need to tell you something." He paused, waiting for Tom to stop crying. "I love you. I see how much it hurts you and I want to do everything to stop it. I know how much this hurts you. I just need you to stop crying. Please."

"I don't want to do this. This is not who I am." Tom struggled not to start to cry again. He knew the break was almost over. "Please don't hate me for this. I want to love you too. "

Chakotay could not respond. He knew what Tom had been through. Tom could not love because he was afraid that it would hurt him. Chakotay loved Tom, even though he hated him for doing this. He hated himself for hating Tom. He hated himself for loving Tom. And knowing that Tom would never love him made Chakotay hate them both even more.

_All hands return to cells. _The voice over the intercom sounded urgent. Tom hurried to remove the devices from Chakotay. Chakotay stepped down, and Tom helped him into his clothes. They returned to their cell, leaning on each other.

Tom started weeping quietly in a corner of the cell. Chakotay moved over to him, and deep blue eyes meet rich brown eyes, speaking a thousand words. He saw the pain and anguish on Tom's face, the insurmountable hurt that filled every moment of his existence, the betrayal, the forbidden love. Chakotay felt his heart go out for Tom, and wanted to gather him in his arms and make his world right. Instead, he reached out his hand, and used what little telepathic powers he had left to him to initiate a link. He felt the world fade away, and only he and Tom were left, time stopped, engulfed into the vast void of a human memory.

_Lieutenant Janeway and Captain Torres stood in front of him. Janeway spit. He's a worthless piece of shit. I can't see why you want him. He deserves a chance. What, so he can screw up again? Torres knelt in front of him. Half-Klingon, with less of a temper than Janeway. Tom, do you know what this means? I want you to be my helmsman on the _**U.S.S.****Voyager**_. Tom looked at her, his voice gone. He tried to move, but could not. Ha, he can't even talk. Still want him, _**Captain**_? _

_Lieutenant Janeway and Captain Torres stood in front of him. This one I want. He looks Maqui. Janeway looked at Chakotay. You'd make a hell of a good engineer. Chakotay stared. What, are they all fucking mute at Auckland? I almost feel sorry for you pathetic sons of bitches. We're not gonna have any luck here, Lieutenant. _

A few weeks later, they had heard about the tragic incident, when both ships were lost, both crews dead. Everyone in the quadrant had heard of the tragic journey of the Starfleet U.S.S_. Voyager_, commanded by the late Captain B'Ellana Torres, who, in their futile attempts to rescue the rouge Maquis ship commanded by the late Lieutenant Kathryn Janeway.

"We were supposed to be there." Tom whispered. "If only." His voice trailed off, worrying Chakotay.

Chakotay moved closer to Tom, feeling his heat radiating outward. He dragged Tom to the lower bed, and moved on top of him. Chakotay traced the lines of Tom's face, still feeling him through the telepathic link. He felt the pain go away, felt Tom hesitate for one endless painful moment before allowing the love to show on his face, allowing the barriers so long hidinhim to go down, allowing himself to feel another real person.

Tom welcomed the touch, and allowed his bare chest to rise and meet Chakotay's. He made his lips rise to meet Chakotay's, each of them now moving as one, their movements synchronized and uniform. Through the link, they felt each other's love, and submitted to the total linkage. They rose and feel the tides of an ocean, until each of them feel back upon each other, unthinking and unmoving with joy.

CHAPTER 2:

Chakotay felt the hard rod come down on his feet yet again. "I won't do it." He said for the thousandth time that day.

"Then this will continue. It will continue until you agree to comply with my requests." The hands brought the rough cane down on his feet, only millimeters from the place where it had last struck. Chakotay screamed. This position was uncomfortable to say the least; he was suspended a few inches off of the floor, with his feet and rear easily accessible, and each time he moved, his body swung violently for an indeterminable amount of time before finally coming to a stop. The cane came down over sensitive areas with uncanny precision, guided, he knew, by laser technology, which was just as effective as more primitive tools in the hands of an individual who was trained as a torturer for years, sometimes since birth.

The cane did not follow any discernable pattern; instead, it seemed to move erratically across Chakotay's skin. "We know what you and your little partner did last night. We just want to make it, well, a little better for you two to… get along. "

"How, by constantly separating us and making us betray each other? How is that going to 'help Starfleet's cause'?" Chakotay's patience was wearing thin.

"It is standard procedure to have cell mates that have attained a strong friendship to torture each other. You, of all people should know this. The fact that you are lovers makes it… more interesting for… everybody involved." The guard's tone of voice was measured and clipped, as if he were talking to an idiot child.

"And who decides that?" Chakotay was tired of the routine of constant pain and constant monitoring and constant hunger. The little sleep that he managed to get did not help either.

Ignoring Chakotay's inquiry, the guard did not hesitate to continue. "You are in prison. Besides, you and Tom have been here as cell mates for years. You share each other's memories, emotions, moods, pain, and hunger. You share each other's life. When two people share so much in such adverse conditions and can manage to remain sane for as long as you have, they are bound to lose the constraints of society sooner or later. And one of the first constraints to go is your sense of gender placements. As much as you'd like to believe otherwise, your 'relationship' with Tom is brought on by the necessity of adverse conditions, not out of true love." The first humane words he had heard from a free man were laced with a painful jab. He brought the cane down and waited for Chakotay to finish screaming before continuing. "Unfortunately for you, the very next thing to go is ethics. Which means that, eventually, you will be willing to torture other prisoners, even one that you supposedly love, in order to make the torture stop for yourself."

"That is ridiculous." Chakotay was not pleased.

"Here is what I want you to do. Tom trusts you. You love him. Simple enough. What you need to do is to select a torture tool tomorrow that requires you to be actively hurting Tom. Just applying the device will not do. A whip or a stick will do. And, you must say to Tom whatever we tell you to. You will be wearing a device on your chest that will enable you to receive what you must say to Tom. You must say it in a convincing voice as well. The catch being, that, if you disobey orders, you will receive an electric shock powerful enough to force you to your knees. If you commit the same offence enough times, you will be brought back here, where I will take care of you." He was gesticulating wildly, motioning and over-enunciating his words unnecessarily.

"But…" Chakotay started.

"No buts. You will do what I say or else." He said, playing with the cane in his hands.

Chakotay was torn between doing the right thing and ending the torture. He knew that he would eventually break and give in, and that in the future his enemy might underestimate him, giving him the upper hand. _Fat chance on the second one_, he thought. He also knew that he would be plagued by guilt at not fighting. _Oh well._

Chakotay was tired, and had already been tortured once earlier today or sometime in the past few hours. He had not slept since then. He saw Tom in his mind, crying when he had had to torture Chakotay. Tom would fight, and Chakotay knew it, but he was too tired to care.

"Do you agree?" The voice was demanding and menacing, as if it already knew the answer to the question. _Of course he did_, Chakotay thought. _That is something every guard learns; never ask a question you do not know the answer to. _

"Yes."

"Very well then." The voice was civilized and calm, as if the person to which it belonged to was not addressing a man he had just tortured.

Rough hands lifted Chakotay and carried him somewhere. He recognized the scent of his own living space, and the scent of Tom. They threw him into the cell like a sack of food, never looking back. The impact barely registered. He could hear Tom still faintly crying, could hear the sound of the guards' footsteps fading into the background noise. Once they were gone, he felt Tom come over and gently drag him to a bed. Chakotay waited until Tom was lying down next to him to fall into the grip of unconsciousness.

CHAPTER 3:

"Chakotay. Please." Tom's voice was a harsh whisper from screaming.

"What do you want, you filthy little slut?" The words stung Chakotay as he said them.

"Please sto-"His voice was cut off by another stroke of the whip, dissolving into a scream. His pelvis rocked forward, leaving more of his exposed scrotum accessible to the whip.

"What's that?" Chakotay forced himself to sound even.

"Just stop. Please."

Chakotay recognized that Tom was begging, and had been begging for endless minutes. He was momentarily torn between the urge to stop torturing Tom and the will to continue so that he would not have to endure more torture himself. Choosing the latter, he brought the whip down with unprecedented precision, but with slightly less force. He realized that that was a mistake as soon as a high-voltage electric shock was transmitted into his body by the device he was wearing on his chest and forced him onto his knees.

He felt someone seize him lightly from the behind and begin talking in a hushed whisper. The hands were clammy; the nails long. The form was obviously female, and her breath down his neck sent shivers up his spine. "Go ahead. I know you want to. He makes you sooooo mad."

The voice enraged Chakotay, and he leapt forward and started whipping Tom viscously on the chest, never relenting until the screams lost their intensity and Tom's body all but stopped writhing in its restraints. An animal grin spread across Chakotay's face. "Are you happy now, Tommy boy?"

Tom whimpered, and Chakotay's smile faded once he realized where he was. "Pathetic bastard that you are."

"Chakotay." Tom whined.

"What, are you not happy? I could give you more if you are dissatisfied." Chakotay leapt up and kicked Tom in the groin.

Tom gasped as his entire body recoiled in the restraints, desperately trying to avoid another kick. Chakotay struck again and again, each time Tom writhing in his restraints, screaming and crying.

Chakotay finally stopped when the female guard put a hand on his shoulder and informed him that they could take a break.

Chakotay squatted down on the floor, for once wordless and unable to meet Tom's eyes. He tried to control his growing rage for fear that Tom may think him to actually be hateful, but at once realized it was futile; he would just taking it out on Tom later. He walked over to the wall, and began to beat his fists against it while silently crying.

"Chakotay." Chakotay turned, and could see even in the dim light of the cell that Tom was crying as well, his chest heaving with barely contained sobs. "Please don't leave me."

Chakotay walked over and took Tom's hand in his. "I would never do that. You should know that." He paused, and said "Did I really hurt you?" Without waiting for a reply he started "I am so sorry. I'm- I don't know what to say. "

"I understand. Don't worry about it." He somehow managed a smile.

"You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah. I just need to pee."

"Shh. If they hear that, they'll make it worse for you. I once asked for a bathroom and they made me hold it until my bladder automatically emptied itself. Every time I consciously thought about peeing, they shocked me with increasing voltage, which made it harder not to go."

"That's encouraging" Tom said.

"I know. Just hope they don't do that to you."

"Fat chance."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Short of becoming omnipotent and getting us the hell out of here, no."

"What do you want me to use next? So that you wouldn't have to suffer so much?"

"You know. That." He said, motioning towards the clamp.

"That?" Chakotay was stunned. Tom had told him that he hated that one the most. _Sarcasm_. The thought his him like a runaway train. _Geez, no one can read sarcasm in this shit hole. _He silently berated himself, making a mental note to pay more attention to sarcasm.

"To distract me."

"Of course." Chakotay barely had time to finish the words before the guard returned. He gave Tom's hand one last squeeze before moving to select the instrument of Tom's choosing.

Chakotay applied the clamp, also rigged with neural sensors in a similar fashion as the syth. He tightened it, thankful that he would not have to be actively torturing Tom.

Tom did not start shaking until after about twenty minutes Earth Standard. The pain was obviously getting to him, but he was determined not to show it. The clamp was still fairly loose, and the injector fluid pouch was only a little less than half empty. The fluid was designed to make the groin area become sensitive and swell slightly. It usually gave men a partial erection and increased pressure on the bladder. Combined with the sleep deprivation, the fact that Tom needed to pee increasingly badly, and the almost continuous onslaught of torture this week, Chakotay judged that Tom would not hold out much longer.

Neither Chakotay nor Tom had any way to tell how much longer this torture session would continue. Kept in perpetual twilight and constantly hungry, prisoners had long since lost their bodies' natural clocks. And considering that Earth was one of the more 'advanced' and 'humane' worlds, no one ventured to imagine what conditions would be like on more primitive worlds.

Tom was finding it harder not to concentrate on his bladder. Although he knew that if he had chosen another tool, his focus would have been on his bladder up until this point, and would have returned to his bladder earlier, he still berated himself for choosing the clamp. He knew that he was starting to squirm. He pain in his groin was white hot, and radiated upward towards his chest. His body, in an attempt to absorb the impact of each tightening, allowed him to feel it in his chest, abdomen, and groin.

Chakotay admitted to himself that, under other circumstances, he would have loved to see Tom naked and writhing. He made a fantasy Tom in his mind, choosing not to focus on the real Tom. Fantasy Tom was on a bed on the Starship Voyager. He was writhing with pleasure, naked on his bed, holding back his excitement, his face twisted into a smile, his mouth gasping for air. And Chakotay was giving him that pleasure.

Chakotay's fantasy was broken when Tom started to quietly groan. Tom's eyes were shut tight, and Chakotay could see that the clamp was notably tighter, and only about one fourth of the injector fluid remained. Tom thrust his entire pelvis forward each time the clamp tightened, as if trying to rid himself of the clamp. The groans were growing louder each passing moment.

The guard handed him a hypospray tube. "Here" she said roughly.

Chakotay moved over to Tom and pressed the tube to Tom's already distended bladder. The slight pressure made Tom grimace and redouble on his struggles to free himself. Chakotay pressed the release, injecting 500 milliliters of water directly into Tom's bladder. Tom's face stiffened, and he gasped with the effort of holding. His already half-erect penis became more erect.

Tom tried hard to keep his thoughts off of very large waterfalls and lakes that were twice the size of San Francisco's Pacific Ocean. Tried not to think of how very badly he needed to pee. Tried not to think of the blinding pain in his groin. Hell, he tried not to THINK. He felt the clamp inject the last of the injector fluid, and tighten for what was hopefully the last time. The tightening was mostly absorbed by his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs, causing his eyes to pop open and his nostrils to flare. Once he had regained his breath, he screamed in pain, and started shouting and cursing and throwing his entire weight uselessly against the restraints. He uttered, "Please Chakotay" over and over again.

Chakotay could see that Tom's wrists and ankles were raw from where they had been rubbing against the restraints. Tom's penis was fully erect, but Chakotay was in too much pain himself to care.

Tom's eyes remained closed for most of the time now, but sometimes flickered open to try to meet Chakotay's. And Chakotay was always there to offer support the best way he could. Chakotay hated the pain and anguish the younger man wore almost like a mask. He hated the look of betrayed trust. But what he hated the most, was, that going into this, Tom had trusted him with his life; had trusted him to make everything right; and Chakotay had betrayed that trust and he knew it. The knowledge that it was impossible for that not to happen was not enough to ease Chakotay. Sometimes when it got really bad and the torture pushed Tom to his limit, he would scream out, "I trusted you, Chakotay," and Chakotay's world would break into a billion slivers of ice, suspending the moment for an endless eternity. And yet, it was nobody's fault.

The clamp tightened one more time, and Tom felt his resolve crack. He no longer had any will to resist, and a wave of nauseating tiredness swept over him. He ceased to struggle and felt his body go limp. The pain was overwhelming, and had become so great that it simply ceased to exist. He felt his own warm urine trickle down his legs. The last coherent sensation was Chakotay's hand on his arm.

CHAPTER 4:

Chakotay beat his fists against the grimy plastic in frustration. He couldn't stand to see Tom like this. _Why? _He asked himself miserably. _Why must this always happen? _He tried to take his eyes of Tom. He quickly blinked and made his gaze return to Tom's writhing body. He owed Tom this at least. Helpless to help Tom, he felt that he owed him the knowledge that his friend and lover was courageous enough to watch him through anything.

Chakotay knew that this screen was one way. He could hear and see Tom, but Tom could not hear or see him. It sickened him to watch Tom. This was different than torturing Tom himself. When that happened, he was made to think that he was in control of the situation. But, in a way, it was better. At least when that happened, he did not see Tom in so much pain, was immune to it, because he was in so much pain himself. But now, he had no control, and was too aware of the other man's sufferings.

Tom flailed out against the restraints. He screamed again. He was quickly losing consciousness. His blood was pooling on the floor, and he was clearly in agony. They had never pushed him this far until now. He tried to fight it, but the mental compartmentalization that he applied against the pain was now blurring and fading as the pain grew and awareness grew dim. The only thing now was pain.

Chakotay knew from years of serving with a Vulcan how this was going to turn out for Tom. The only logical option for the torturers was to use Tom against himself. Once Tom was nearly unconscious, they would apply a memory inducer and give Tom a shot of triox. This would prevent Tom from falling further into unconsciousness, while making Tom believe that he was experiencing the memories for himself, almost like a nightmare. Except that Tom would not know that he was 'dreaming'. And Chakotay, knowing how bad Tom's past had been, knew that that method would hurt Tom worse than his torturers would have intended. And no matter how strong Tom was, the effects would be shattering. As bad as the experiences had been for Tom the first time around, they would be a hundred times worse for Tom the second time.

Tom felt weaker and weaker. He knew that he could not stop fighting. He knew that it would mean certain death if he did. He renewed his efforts against the restraints, trying his best to get free. His body flailed uselessly. As his strength drained and his efforts weakened, he thought of who would help him, of who _should_ have been there to help him. Only one name came to his mind- _Chakotay_. Tom said Chakotay's name with all of his remaining strength. Just loud enough so that the man on the other side of the glass could hear it. Then he was aware of nothing but the pain.

Chakotay heard Tom say his name. He knew that Tom had said it because he trusted Chakotay more than anyone else. He trusted no one else. And Chakotay knew that he should have been there for him. He knew what would happen next.

_Tom was cowering, hiding from his drunken father. He was still bleeding from last night's beating. There was nowhere to run. His father was yelling about not getting into trouble and staying out of prison. Yelling about how he was disgraced to have Tom as a son. Screaming like the drunken bastard that he was about living up to his name. His father found his hiding spot. Instinctively, Tom curled himself into a fetal position. His father started to kick him brutally, aiming for his shin and back. Not satisfied, he uncurled Tom and sat on his thighs with his knee jabbing into Tom's groin. He slapped Tom repeatedly, punching his chest and abdomen angrily. Tom gasped, but did not try to fight. "Dad, please, I won't…" His pleas were cut off by another sharp blow to the chest. _

"_I don't care about you anymore. I am disgraced to have you as my son. You are a failure." Tom winced at the word 'failure'. He had been told that he was a failure ever since his father was captured by the Cardassians. _

"_Dad…"_

"_Don't call me 'Dad'. I am not your father."_

"_Admiral," the words stung in Tom's mouth, "Give me another chance."_

"_There are no second chances, you puny son of a bitch. I didn't get any second chances. You have had far too many 'chances' already, in my opinion, if that means anything to you anymore."_

"_Dad." He whined._

"_No. Get out of my house. You are no longer my son."_

"_But…"_

"_Get out of my house. You are no longer my son." Owen Paris got off of his former son._

_Tom got up. He walked out without another word, silent tears streaming down his face. He had been in prison twice. He had been in and out of gangs more than a half a dozen times. He had been kicked out of Starfleet and the Maquis. He had been beaten repeatedly and disowned by his farther. He had nowhere to go, and no one to turn to. He was alone, completely and utterly alone._

Chakotay heard Tom pleading to an empty room, talking to his father, crying. Knew that Tom was reliving the time that his father disowned him. Tom dreamed about it enough. It was one of the worst things that had happened to Tom. Chakotay knew that he could hardly fathom a past as horrific as the one Tom had told him about, and knew that there were things much worse that Tom had not told him about. Nor could he fathom a future as grim as Tom predicted it to be. But every time, Tom had been right and Chakotay had been wrong.

The memory inducer was removed, and Tom was revived. He started to spasm with the waves of phantom pain remaining from the previous torture session. Chakotay watched the guards remove the restraints, saw Tom try to run away, saw them grab hold of him, and heard Tom whimper. They left the room.

The guards came and hauled Chakotay into the interrogation room and strapped him down with the restraints. Chakotay did not even try to resist.

Tom was thrown into a chair. He could see into the interrogation room. Chakotay was on the same interrogation bed as he had been on only moments ago, which was slightly reclined but straight enough to make anyone uncomfortable.

He saw Chakotay's lean, muscular body which he prided himself on, now riddled with the scars of torture. His face showed no signs of fear, and did not even hint to the extent of the torture he had endured. Only by looking him straight in the eye and looking into his soul could you see who he really was. His unnerving smile made Tom wince at his own lack of endurance.

They guards applied some unknown invisible device, which was frightening in itself. Chakotay's face wrinkled slightly, but his smile did not falter.

Chakotay understood the futility of this torture. There was no goal, no result. And Chakotay knew that eventually he would give in and break, just like every other time. Even when he lost control of his body, he could still control his mind. He knew too, that he could suppress his reaction for up to 72 hours, at which point lack of food, water and sleep would lead to an inevitable lapse of control, followed by a state of unconsciousness similar to a coma. However, that too was pointless. If he did not suppress his reaction, the torture would continue. So Chakotay played along. He made the guards _believe_ that they had broken him. In fact, he made _everyone_ believe that. Otherwise, they would torture him into a real break. Even with Tom, he could not let his advantage show.

More so, if he were to suppress his reaction, Tom would have to watch as he lost control of his body, assuming that Tom was watching. Presumably, he was, and even through it would hurt him to see Chakotay supposedly lose control, it would hurt him even more to see him really lose total control. So he made the only logical decision. He allowed the torture to take his body into the normal levels of distress, first losing the smile, than the characteristic grimace and finally writhing and shouting and begging to fake a loss of control. All very logical and thought out.

Tom watched as Chakotay's smile faded and was replaced by a grimace. _So characteristic_. Every time Chakotay was tortured, he went through the same stages. Always. It was unnerving. All Tom wanted was to be back in his cell lying next to Chakotay after an awesome night in prison. Tom laughed at the thought. _Not much to ask for is it, you bastards? _

Chakotay wondered if Tom was enjoying this, and immediately berated himself for even considering it. He also wondered how it would feel to allow himself to reconnect with his body and experience the torture. It was not too late. His body way only beginning to spasm sporadically. He decided to try it. It would strengthen his will.

Tom watched as Chakotay had an even more violent spasm, jerking and twisting fiercely. Something had changed: had become less automatic. Tom told himself that it was nothing and continued to watch in horrified fascination.

Chakotay found this to be harder than he had thought. Mental barriers raised themselves automatically, but Chakotay forced them down. He needed to feel the pain. His body reacted more violently than he had expected, the increase and frequency of his spasms just barely being compensated for by the increase in the pain factor of the device. Now he felt the same sick fascination as he had while he had been a mere spectator. It was odd, and it felt fundamentally wrong.

Tom knew that Chakotay was nearing his limit. He knew every other time too, but this time seemed… different. He couldn't explain why, it just felt different. He watched as Chakotay spasmed again, feeling both sympathy and a sick fascination. He wanted it to be over, and he wanted to be in bed with Chakotay, making everything alright in a world that was wrong. He wanted, no needed, to feel… special.

As the pain grew unbearable, Chakotay struggled to keep control. It was too late to back out now, and the knowledge that he could make the pain go away at any time strengthened his resolve because he was _choosing_ not to. He thought about how many times he had done this before. He thought about how much he loved Tom Paris. But, most importantly, just at the brink of control, he thought of how many times in his life he had done something _without looking back_.

Epilogue: ( Ten years later)

Tom was curled up in a corner of the cell. He was shaking, and his beautiful blue eyes were glazed over with an eternal sheen. He no longer cried, or screamed, only sat there and rocked and shook and stared with unknowing eyes a spot in the floor that had become his entire world. He no longer felt, no longer slept, no longer ate or drank. Chakotay knew that he would be dead within two days. More importantly, though, he knew that Tom was insane, forever out of reach. But he still wanted to say goodbye.

Chakotay could only focus on the past. He had tried to dissuade Tom from undergoing the Freedom Test, because he knew that Tom would not be able to endure. The Freedom Test was a test in which a prisoner had to be tortured for 24 hours straight, without breaks, and not give in. Chakotay passed. Tom failed. And paid the price.

He thought back to the first months of prisoner, which, now, years later, seemed like his only past. He and Tom had confessed their love for each other, and had gotten through this together. But Tom had finally been pushed past the point of no return. There was no going back. Chakotay blamed himself, which is why he wanted to say goodbye one last time.

Going into the test, they had both known the risks. If you failed, and broke, you were starved until you died. If you passed, you were given the option of freedom or execution. (Some people choose execution because they felt that they had nothing to live for. The lengthy imprisonment got to them the most.) Chakotay had chosen execution. He felt that there was nothing felt to live for. And although he would never give his tormentors the satisfaction of knowing this, Auckland had broken him as well.

Chakotay heard the sound of heavy footsteps growing louder. _Guards. My executioners. _He took one last look at Tom, a man who had once been his closest friend and lover. One last look at the cell, the place that was his final mortal home. One last look at himself, into his past, the man he used to be, the man that he was now. He saw his past before his eyes, racing, jumping, flickering on and off, sparks in the brief flame of life. He straightened himself, for the last time. The cell door swung open, and he walked out without looking back.


End file.
